


Stress Relief

by PhazonFire



Category: RWBY
Genre: Age Difference, Blindfolds, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kidnapping, Light BDSM, Master/Slave, Rosewick - Freeform, Sadistic Roman, Smut, Sub Ruby, Table Sex, dubcon, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 07:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11641539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhazonFire/pseuds/PhazonFire
Summary: Depraved of downtime and in the midst of hatching an evil plan, Roman calls on an old friend to help him unwind.





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

> Ruby's age isn't really called out at all in this, but underage warnings just in case.

“Where’d the boss say he wants her again?”

“Third corridor down the hall. It’s on the left. Red handle. You can’t miss it.”

_It would be red_ , Ruby Rose thought to herself as the burly hands of White Fang underlings yanked her down the concrete hallway by her wrists. Glancing around for a clock, her efforts were in vain as her eyes met with an endless slew of bricks and walls in desperate need of repair, dripping with paint shavings and mildew. Feet shuffling in line with the irritated-looking Faunus next to her, Ruby risked a glance over her shoulder at the guard who’d snatched Crescent Rose from her grasp on arrival: he was headed down some dimly-lit corridor himself, the scythe flung over his shoulder like trash. How dare they, she thought with a grimace. 

Her memories of arriving in the desolate excuse for a building she now stood in were faint, at best. A walk through the downtown area. A rough pair of hands from behind. A stiff, itchy burlap sack thrown over her head, tied tight at the neck. Protest. Kicking. Helplessness. And now she was here, still helpless as ever, head pounding from the rough and frigid trunk lining of the truck she’d been effortlessly tossed into. The absence of more White Fang members suggested the end of a shift--nighttime, she assumed. However, Ruby wasn’t tired--just aggravated. Confused. Her phone with the guard who’d stolen Crescent Rose, calling Yang and the others wasn’t an option. She’d have to squirm her way out of this mess herself, whatever it may be. 

At the end of the hall, down the third corridor on the left, in front of the door with the red handle, Ruby found herself face-to-face with a black-lettered “Admins Only” sign. A turn of the door handle by the left guard, a shove from behind, and a click of the lock later, and Ruby was in uncharted territory--most likely, accompanied by the aforementioned admins. Within the red-handled room stood a substantial change in scenery--a grand mahogany dining table sat front and center in the middle of the room, with two velvet-lined chairs seated at either end. 

One of them, however, occupied by a sadist. 

Rolling a half-burnt cigar between two gloved fingers and swirling a glass of red wine in slow circles, Roman Torchwick, well-dressed as ever, rested his feet on the table, motioning to a baffled Ruby to take a seat. “Now isn’t this a reunion for the ages,” the criminal murmured in a tone both bemused and aggravated. “It’s a pleasure as always, Red.” 

“L-Likewise,” Ruby stuttered, taking the seat opposite of his. Before her rested a single glass of red wine, at which she eyed suspiciously. Torchwick had some nasty habits regarding crime, but drugging girls had always seemed out of his league. 

“It’s safe, y’know,” he spoke aloud, as though reading her mind. “C’mon, is it really that odd to want to have a nice, candlelit evening with my most treasured acquaintance?” he added with a malicious grin that made Ruby’s heart pound. In a good way or a bad way, however, she was unsure.

Rather than beat about with formalities, Ruby set about tackling the elephant in the room. “Why am I here? Why are you here? What’s going on, exactly?”  
Roman snickered. “Never one to beat around the bush, eh, Red?” he jested, setting down his wine glass and rising from his seat. Ruby, bracing for aggression, began to rise as well, only to be halted by an authoritative head shake from the criminal. Slowly returning to her seat, she could feel her blood pressure rising as Torchwick took slow, powerful steps in her direction, silently and calmly. Other than the occasional puff of his cigar, he said nothing, simply locking his viridian eyes with her silver counterparts. Something was wrong. Something was different. 

“Just hear me out here, sweetheart,” he crooned, stepping softly behind her and fingering her vermilion hood gently. “Where’s that oversized gardening tool of yours, anyway?”

“You would know,” she spat angrily, shaking as Roman’s fingers slipped above her hood and down to her shoulder, brushing her softly. “I want it back, and I want to leave. Now.”

“So feisty,” he whispered, twirling a strand of her hair around one gloved finger. “I’d be more than happy to give it back, provided you can offer a bit of assistance to my dilemma, Red.”

Ruby’s anger melted into a puddle of confusion. “You’d give it back that easily? This better not be some sort of trap.”

“Not at all,” he assured. “You have my word as a gentleman.”

“Oh please,” Ruby snorted, “like that means a lot coming from you.”

“Harsh, Red,” he muttered, blowing a thin stream of cigar smoke onto the back of her neck, sending chills skittering down Ruby’s spine. “You get your precious scythe back so long as I get what I want. And if you haven’t realized by now, I always get what I want,” he hissed. 

“Fine,” offered a defeated Ruby. “What do you want exactly? Dust? Money?”

“I’ve already got what I want right here,” he sighed dreamily, more fingers invading Ruby’s hair, spinning and dancing in her red-and-black locks. “You see, I was hoping you could help me out with a bit of a personal issue. Stress relief, if you will.”

Ruby felt her face flush. “Excuse me?”

“See, Emerald won’t come near me if I paid her to, and Cinder’s so frigid _I_ wouldn’t come near _her_ if she paid me to, and Neo? She just doesn’t respond the right way, the way a girl ought to in those scenarios. She’s a second-rate cum-dumpster, and I need something fresh. Something responsive and hot. Feisty. And so I thought, in a stroke of genius, hey, why not call up my good friend Red? And here you are, and here I am, and so fate brings us together once more,” he concluded with another steady river of smoke down Ruby’s neck. 

Ruby’s heart thumped against her chest as though it would burst, shivering under Roman’s smoke-gusts and the somewhat pleasurable sensation of his fingers gently playing in her hair. Feeling her muscles tense up, he grinned slyly, continuing. 

“Now, what I’ve been needing more than anything is a good girl, a nice obedient one, ready to serve her master at a moment’s notice. Which brings me to sweet, subservient little Red, willing and eager to please.” He quietly slid closer to her, wrapping his fingers around her shoulders and pressing up against the back of the chair hard enough for Ruby to feel through the gaps in the wood. That is most definitely not his cane. 

“So, best-case scenario, I go home refreshed, emptied, happy and with lowered blood pressure, and little Red here goes home with her cute little gardening set and the greatest orgasm of her life. Doesn’t that sound like a nice plan, now?” he cooed into her ear softly. She shuddered. This was wrong, of course, and yet held a forbidden fruit-type aura to it that proved irresistible to Ruby. Even now she could feel herself seeping onto the chair, soaking into the velvet lining. Roman knew. She knew he knew, and it turned her on all the more. 

“Now, without further ado,” the criminal whispered, slipping his scarf off, “let’s get this show on the road.” Any potential protest, had it dared to rise from her useless mouth, drained away as Roman pushed Ruby’s wine glass onto the floor with a messy shatter, clearing the table with one hasty arm and lifting her small figure with another, tossing her onto the table. In an instant, he was on her, on his hands and knees towering over her, green eyes locked onto grey with the intent to kill. Those smooth, gloved fingers she was becoming fond of worked their way down to her own, trapping them against the mahogany below. Her heart raced as Roman licked his lips, sliding her fingers below his belt and over a substantial bulge. He shot her a sultry grin that set her libido ablaze, walking her hands through the motions of unbuttoning his jeans, sliding off his belt, wrapping trembling fingers around his thick heat. She had to admit, he was bigger than she’d originally pictured. Roman unwrapped his fingers from hers, working one hand skillfully under her skirt and dragging another tantalizingly to her lips. 

“That’s a good girl, Red,” he groaned, aggressively forcing two gloved fingers into her mouth. Between his fingers on her and his fingers in her mouth, she arched under his touch, whimpering softly as her tongue slipped greedily over the submission-demanding presence between her lips. “That’s a good girl,” he repeated, softer and more authoritative. His voice was nearly mesmerizing, and Ruby couldn’t get enough of it. Something about sexual submission to Roman was driving her insane. In a good way or a bad way, again, she was unsure. 

“Now,” Roman whispered, fingers pushing hard against Ruby’s sweet spot, “I’m going to need a promise from you to be a good girl the whole time. Good girls don’t argue or struggle, they obey,” he spoke with powerful authority, putting particular emphasis on the last word that made Ruby throb. “Are we clear, Red?” he added, looking deep into her eyes, his gaze dripping with intimidation and dominance. Ruby nodded, sucking hard on his fingers and gripping his erection even tighter, massaging and tugging. 

“That’s a good girl,” he repeated once more, the phrase sending a fresh round of chills down Ruby’s spine. Withdrawing his fingers from her mouth and sensitive areas (much to Ruby’s dismay), Roman picked up his scarf and, unflinchingly, maneuvered it around Ruby’s eyes, blinding her completely. Although disappointed at the absence of Roman-delivered pleasure, Ruby’s excitement grew as Roman took complete control, hiking her skirt up around her waist and bearing down on her, pushing between her thighs without entering. Almost instinctively, she wrapped her legs around him, submitting as he held her wrists above her head with a free hand, rendering her immobile. 

“See, this,”--and here he accentuated his last word with a forceful thrust--“is the kind of thing I just can’t seem to get with other girls these days. If I do, it only lasts maybe a second”--another thrust--“at best before all the enjoyment gets sucked out of it. But you, Red, are one of a kind. It’s got that revenge-fucking feel to it, almost. Not a feeling I can get out of Neo, that’s for sure,” he concluded, aggressively tugging her panties down to her ankles, pushing hard up inside her with a mutual groan from both him and Ruby. 

“And I appreciate the lack of sentimental value here,” he panted out in between harsh thrusts into the young girl, who was a puddle of euphoria at this point. “No kissing, no snuggling, no garbage, just sweet relief. Wonderful, isn’t it, Red?”

Ruby, drowning in the ministrations of an obviously-skilled criminal, could hardly form a coherent sentence. “Y-Y-Yeah, Roman, I like it a lot.”

Roman thrusted harder into her, burying himself within her up to the hilt. “That’s “master” to you, Red.” 

Ruby was ecstatic. “Y-Yes, master.”

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured for what seemed like the billionth time (not that Ruby was, by any means, sick of it). Roman was fast--almost painfully so, as though he was desperate to finish what he’d started. Ruby, though desperate for personal pleasure, didn’t mind his speed. After long nights alone masturbating under the covers, the idea of simply serving another person sexually, even someone as despicable as Roman, was beyond appetizing. She closed her eyes beneath the blindfold, going limp under Torchwick’s rhythmic motions against her, surrendering herself to his usage. 

Just as she’d finally gotten adjusted to the darkness beneath Roman’s scarf, she felt it forcefully ripped from her face. Somewhat disappointed, she looked up at Roman with pleading eyes, as though silently begging for it back.

“I wanna see the look in your eyes when you cum, Red,” he panted softly. 

As though the sentence enough, combined with the desperate look on his face, was enough to set her off, Ruby could feel herself beginning to tighten around Roman, her toes curling and her whole body rippling with pleasure as she reached her climax, practically shouting in ecstasy while she convulsed around a throbbing Roman Torchwick. 

“I knew you were a screamer,” he whispered in between frantic endgame thrusts, feeling himself rapidly nearing the edge as she orgasmed. With a final few aggressive thrusts, Roman spurted his load deep inside of a still-climaxing Ruby Rose, feeling like shouting a bit himself as he did. He released Ruby’s wrists with a trembling hand, sweating and spent, withdrawing himself and retreating back into his pants just as quickly as he’d emerged. He smirked at the sight of a pleasured Ruby riding out the after-effects of her orgasm on the table, sprawled out and panting harshly, laced with pleasure. 

“Well, Red,” he continued, as though ignorant of the ecstatic mess on the table, “it’s been a pleasure, as always, no pun intended. Feel free to drop by again whenever you’re in town.”

Ruby struggled to sit up, her head practically throbbing in time with her aching lower body. Pulling now-ruined panties back up where they belonged, she tried to ignore the overwhelming fact that Roman’s semen was dripping out of her with every movement she made--something she would definitely not be able to explain when she got back to her dorm at Beacon. “Don’t you dare make this a regular thing, Roman.”

“What did I just get done saying about submission and being obedient, Red? Good girls don’t protest. They obey,” he murmured nonchalantly, adjusting his fedora and strolling towards the door as though nothing had occurred in the last fifteen minutes whatsoever. “Your gardening tool is at the front desk. You’re free to go. But you breathe a word of this to any of your little friends,” he threatened, peering over his shoulder with an authoritative glare that made Ruby go weak, “and next time I won’t go nearly as easy on you.”

Roman smirked as he led the red-handled door slam shut behind him, aware of the faint echo of a “yes, master” that had followed his sentence.


End file.
